Roguish
by kajibot
Summary: Her brother, a devout Andrastian and the pride and joy of the Trevelyans, was a natural born leader; his unwavering wisdom, political prowess, and dashing good looks commanded both respect and awe from peasants to kings. Ebris was just a troublemaker. Andraste clearly chose the wrong Trevelyan to be her Herald.
1. Chapter 1: Well Laid Plans

_Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now._

* * *

><p>It was a cold morning and the sun lazily hid behind thick, threatening clouds as it made its daily trek up the sky. Not the best start for what optimists were prematurely calling the dawn of a peaceful era, the day that would mark the end of the Mage-Templar wars: the day of Divine Justinia's Conclave. The most important members of the Chantry and its loyal supporters, as well as delegates from every Circle of Magi in Thedas and representatives of the Templar Order were expected to gather at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and work out their differences in a constructive and healthy manner. Ebris Trevelyan couldn't hold back the fits of laughter that overtook her when Cadan had read out loud the missive requesting his presence at said Conclave.<p>

_What an amazing idea!_ she'd exclaimed, _smacking her forehead into both hands, Let's round up the most insane and dangerous people in all of Thedas in a room who incidentally hate each other to bits, lock the door, and see what happens. Maybe they'll kill each other and save us all the trouble. Mafareth's hairy arse, has Divine Justinia learned nothing from the last conclave at the White Spire? Perhaps this is a joke. Please tell me this is a joke._

While his sister continued to blaspheme and tirade about, Cadan had reread the invitation thoughtfully and the beginnings of a really, really bad plan starting brewing in his head. A few days later, when he divulged his plan to his sister, she had burst out in laughter again, this time at his expense. Still, even she couldn't deny that the opportunity this Conclave presented was too well-timed to pass up, and thus, they greased up the wheels of an idea-an inkling of an idea, rather-that they'd been toying with for nearly three years.

Ebris found the situation less hilarious now that she stood before the massive and imposing Temple of Sacred Ashes, its tall doors and even taller spires looming before her, demanding reverence she'd never felt in her twenty-eight years. She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the crisp snow on the ground or the biting wind that whistled through naked trees.

"It's rather impressive that they were able to preserve as much of the original structure as they did," Cadan whistled, admiring the architectural masterpiece.

"It's creepy," she grumbled. Cadan ignored her and pushed open one of the two heavy doors.

It was still too early for the doors to be open, but nobody stopped them as they made their way into the cool vestibule. Elven servants were still busily cleaning the large hall; some were scrubbing the marble floors and a few were on ladders, polishing the richly colored stone tiles that decorated the walls from the ground up to the domed ceiling. Despite the heavy fog and thick clouds, a stream of dim light spilled through the stained glass skylight, casting splashes of color throughout the atrium.

A handful of attendees had arrived before them, but for the most part, the sanctuary was quiet, save the low murmuring of hushed voices and the echoes of shoes clicking on the ground.

Ebris grew increasingly anxious as she followed her brother deeper into the Temple. Her fingers pressed against the old map hidden within her cloak obsessively, as if expecting it to magically vanish at any moment. She felt the scrutiny of several mage delegates from the Circle of Ansburg as they passed. She quickened her pace and averted her eyes; even with her hood pulled over her head, she still felt recognizable.

Cadan walked briskly and confidently towards the South Eastern chambers, as if he made this trip every single day. Of their siblings, he had always been the leader, charming nobles left and right with his natural charisma and commanding respect even from those above his station. Ebris, on the other hand, detested being in any sort of spotlight. She was most comfortable slinking in the shadows or crouching along catwalks, silently observing people from a more advantageous angle. She felt most powerful when she was hidden in plain sight.

"Stay close," Cadan said in a low voice. "Stop fidgeting and pull your shoulders back. Makers breath, were you raised in a barn? Stop slouching!"

They turned the corner and she found herself staring at two mages wearing Ostwick's colors. They glowered when they saw her brother's insignia bearing the Trevelyan family heraldry. She wasn't surprised; her family was not well loved. The Trevelyans' public and unwavering support of the chantry-from campaigning against the Templar Order in Ostwick and going as far as ordering the Rite of Tranquility on their youngest son, Kenver, who'd joined the mage rebellion in Kirkwall-had drawn the ire of both factions.

One of the mages met her gaze and she immediately recognized the cool, blue eyes and crooked nose of a man who deserved to die twenty times over, specifically by her hand. His pale, blonde hair was slicked back, so different from the unruly mess of curls she remembered as a child. A sneer of recognition crept its way up his face and she instinctively moved to grab the bow from her back, only to find thin air. Drat. She knew she would regret leaving her longbow at home.

"What is that stupid blighter doing here?" she hissed, unable to keep her voice from rising. An animalistic snarl escaped her throat. Handel cast her a lofty smirk before walking away with his mage counterpart.

"Senior Enchanter Handel is here to represent the Ostwick Circle of Magi at the Divine's Conclave," Cadan replied calmly, grabbing her elbow to drag her away. In addition to his charming personality and regal presence, he had also inherited their father's level head; Ebris, not so much.

"Handel is Senior Enchanter now?" Ebris snorted, tearing her eyes away from his retreating back. "Handel, the filthy half-wit who bullied Kenver out of the Ostwick Circle? How did that idiotic lout become Senior Enchanter? It must be some sort of magic... blood magic. No sane person would give that giant tit any authority over anything. Senior Enchanter? For the love of Andraste, whose balls did he have to fondle to - "

"Ebris, collect yourself," Cadan sighed, pulling her into the empty South Eastern chamber and closing the door firmly behind them. Once the door clicked shut, Ebris pulled back her hood, wiping beads of angry sweat from her forehead.

"I will kill him," she muttered, her rage not so easily quelled. "By the maker, his snaggletooth will be all that's left of him after I'm through, that piss-for-brains, nughumping, son of a - "

"Patience, dear sister. You will have your revenge," Cadan dismissed her with a wave of his hand and strode over to the heavy, wooden desk in the middle of the large, sparsely decorated room. It's starkness was jarring, compared to the lavishness and excess displayed in the main entrance.

Ebris still shook with anger. She long blamed Handel for Kenver's condition. Her younger brother had never explained the details of the events that led to his transfer to Kirkwall's Circle as an apprentice-mage, but she surmised from his vague letters that Handel was at the root of it. Kenver underwent his Harrowing at the Kirkwall Circle and, for a time, seemed content being a full member of the Circle of Magi. However, with the brewing discontent in Kirkwall between the mages and the Templars, that happiness was short-lived.

Ebris was ecstatic when Kenver wrote that he would be coming back to the family estate after the Kirkwall Circle dissolved. But the person who showed up at their doorsteps was not Kenver. Not really. The Kenver that showed up was devoid of everything that made him the brother that she loved; the shy, sweet boy who had followed her around relentlessly during their childhood was gone and replaced with a thing that smiled placidly and spook in an inhumanly monotone voice.

She remembered when he was ten and first displayed signs of magic, he had cried, terrified that the Templars would make him Tranquil. For an entire year, she had tried to keep his magic hidden, but eventually, their mother caught him accidentally set his toast on fire and sent him off to the Ostwick Circle of Magi. As they dragged him away, Ebris assured him repeatedly that she would never let them take away his dreams.

Handel would pay, as would her parents and the Templars who performed the Rite of Tranquility, whoever they were. She swore this in his memory every night as she watched his shell of a body lay on the bed like stone.

"Come quickly. Time is of the essence and I have precious little of it," Cadan waved her over to the table, bringing her back to the present. He removed his pack and pulled out a tattered, leather bound journal. "Do you have the map?"

Ebris gingerly plucked the old scroll from within her cloak and unrolled it, grimacing at the fresh crinkles. She had inadvertently been clutching at the ancient map as she raged. Another reason to hate Handel.

Cadan glanced over at the battered map and sighed his disapproval.

"Put what's left of the map on the table," he instructed. She delicately flattened the scroll as her brother leafed through his book. Though the map was old and the ink barely legible, a trained eye could easily decipher the document as building plans for the Temple of Sacred Ashes or, rather, the ruins that it once was.

Cadan lightly tapped a faded section of the blueprint.

"We are here," he said. His fingers traced the line of the path leading out of the chamber to the main atrium of the Temple, then down another hallway that no longer existed. His other finger bookmarked a page in the journal. "This hall leads to a collapse into the caves below the Temple, according to Genetivi's notes. They walled it off when they renovated the Temple, so you will need to use another entry point."

His fingers trailed up and tapped on a hallway leading to the North Eastern chamber.

"This hallway has also been closed off, but there is a room-a closet according to my source-with cellar access. It is right across from the east entrance of the Inner Sanctum so you must be absolutely certain that nobody sees you."

"What about Handel?" Ebris asked, "He recognized me."

"He thinks you are my guest. As such, you are only permitted in the entryway and lower levels. The Qunari guards on the balcony will not pose a problem. People who know you, like Handel, will be more difficult to evade, which is why it is important for you to gain access to the upper levels before the doors open for the delegates invited to the Conclave. When you reach the upper level, stick to the eastern wall until you reach an unmarked door. You will then head into the cellar and find a way into the caves. From there, you will - "

"I know what to do from there," Ebris interrupted, growing impatient. Cadan looked up from the parchment, annoyed.

"For my sake, just let me go over it. I must announce my presence to the chantry scribes shortly and I will not rest easy until I know for certain that you will not cock up our only chance to help Kenver because you could not follow very simple instructions."

Ebris rolled her eyes.

"Don't get caught, don't touch anything, did I miss something?" she pressed her fingers to her temple, dramatically.

Cadan glared at her. "Ebris, This is a simple scouting mission. Recover any information you can about the Urn or the Gauntlet, note any clues that the Hero of Ferelden had been there, then leave. It is imperative that _nobody_ can know what we are searching for, so under no circumstances can you be caught." He paused for a moment before adding, "And also, don't touch anything. I will not have you poking around and ruining the integrity of the caverns."

"Right. No touching, no telling. I think I can manage that."

"One more thing," Cadan said, "Try to find an alternative entrance to the caves. I suspect we wont find such a convenient opportunity to sneak back here after today."

"Andraste bless the Divine and her terrible ideas."

"Ebris..."

"What? You have to agree that this Conclave is a ridiculous idea. The only thing you can do is cross your fingers and hope people don't start killing each other like they did in Val Royeaux."

Cadan shook his head as he rolled up the map and put the journal back in his bag. His voice was weary, though his angular face remained stern. "Is this really the time for levity?"

He shouldered the bag and handed the map back to his sister.

"Absolutely," Ebris insisted, stuffing the map unceremoniously into her inner pocket. "Although I'm being completely serious. Be careful in there. The conclave at the White Spire led to a war. Tensions have never been higher, Cadan. This day will not end in peace."

Cadan paused, then sighed, deciding not to argue. He didn't disagree with his sister's pessimistic views, but a part of him was hopeful that the proceedings would work in the Divine's favor. Unbeknownst to Ebris, he had plans to seek out the Divine and speak with her about their brother. There had been rumors-rumors that he had carefully been keeping away from his hotheaded sister-that Divine Justinia knew about a way to reverse the Rite of Tranquility. From the Divine's long history of treating mages with compassion, he had high hopes that she would hear his plight and, in time, might even share her knowledge of this mysterious ritual.

Ebris would be furious if she learned that he had kept such vital information from her, but he was certain that it was for the best. His sister had many talents-she was an adept spy and an accomplished archer, among other things-but a politician, she was not. She would forgive him for his deception, he decided, shaking off a twinge of guilt. Better to let her try and find the Urn of Sacred Ashes than try to get involved with what he was doing and inevitably mess it up. Who knew, perhaps her search would prove fruitful.

"You be careful as well," he said, giving her a reassuring smile.

Ebris opened her mouth, ready to tell her brother a funny joke she had heard about the Divine involving a dwarf, an elf, and a hat, but then refrained, deciding instead to gave him a small salute before disappearing out the door. She could tell him the joke on the journey back to Ostwick. It would be nice for him to laugh after what was bound to be a stressful day.

She might have said more to her brother before parting ways, had she known of the nightmare that lay in wait for her at the heart of the Temple. Had she known of the events that were about to unfold, hell, she would have done a lot of things differently.

* * *

><p><em>The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.<em>


	2. Chapter 2: The Breach

The grating sound of a door swinging open jolted her awake. Ebris carefully tried to open her eyes then promptly gave up, her entire body protesting the small movement. Panic rose within her as she realized she was shackled to a chair. Two pairs of footsteps entered the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

Her thoughts raced. Where was she? Where was Cadan? The Temple of Ashes seemed like a faraway dream. Or perhaps she was dreaming right now.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now."

The woman's voice was jarring. Her throbbing head screamed in agony as the words reverberated in her ears.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

If she could laugh without setting her body aflame in spidering, paralyzing pain, she would. The voice was lying. Relief flooded her mind-this _must_ be a dream. She tried to imagine what Cadan's face would look like when she tells him of this terrible nightmare. He would roll his eyes and ruffle her hair. _Why must you always kill me in your dreams?_ his handsome face would feign annoyance. Heavy tears slipped onto her eyelashes, weighing them down.

A searing pain ripped through her.

She screamed. Her wrists chafed against her shackles as an unholy burn consumed her left hand. Her eyes flew open to reveal tiny beams of light coming from an otherworldly green mark in the middle of her palm. It was familiar, though she couldn't quite remember why.

"What did you do to me?" she gasped, grinding her teeth together. She glared at the armed men surrounding her. A tall woman with short, dark hair and piercing eyes-a Seeker, Ebris realized, recognizing the all-seeing eye insignia on her armor-knelt before her. She squeezed her eyes shut again, desperately clinging to the same two lines that would make all of this okay: _It's just a nightmare. Soon you'll wake up. It's just a nightmare. Soon you'll wake up. It's just a nightmare. Soon you'll -_

"Explain this!"

Ebris yelped as she felt her hand yanked up against her shackles.

"I don't know what that is!" she insisted. Reality crushed her, brutally shattering all hope that Cadan would come rushing in to save her. Wisps of memories that seemed unfamiliar yet somehow real came rushing back.

_Darkness. Monsters behind her, chasing her, forcing her up. Tired, so tired, feet can't move, let the Void take her so long as she can sleep. Bright light. A body? Reaching out. Fingers stretched, grasping, gasping..._

"You're lying!" the Seeker's dark hair brushed along her forehead, bristling like her dark, angry eyes. She strode to a table near the door where another woman in mail stood silently in the shadows, her hood hiding her eyes. The dark-haired woman grabbed something from the table.

"You had this on you when we found you," she dropped the map on Ebris' lap. It was ruined now, dark scorch marks marring the edges. Half of it was completely illegible, shredded and mangled into a withered mess. "It's a map of the Ruined Temple. What were you doing with it?"

Her stomach dropped. The map was destroyed. Cadan would _kill _her. _Ebris, you had one job_, he would pinch the bridge of his nose, exasperated. _This was our only chance to save Kenver and now you've gone and mucked it up._ But it would be okay because, knowing Cadan, he would have another solution, another trick up his sleeve. The hero of the day; that's just who he was.

_Under no circumstances can you be caught. _ Cadan's words, now a distant memory, still whispered to her.

"I - I found it," she swallowed, trying to summon some belligerence, "Stole it, to be more specific. I wanted a souvenir and the map was just lying about all willy nilly on a desk, I didn't think anybody would - "

"Another lie."

The Seeker lunged at her and gripped her neck. "You will tell me the truth," she snarled. "Everybody is dead, including the Divine. The mark on your hand is connected, it has to be. What were you doing at the Conclave?"

Ebris glared up at her defiantly and spat, "Let me go."

The Seeker moved as if to hit her and she steeled her face, ready for the strike. The hooded woman emerged from the shadows. "Calm yourself, Cassandra," she said, her tone soothing. She pulled the Seeker away. "We need her."

The Seeker shook her off and stalked across the room, folding her arms across her chest. The other woman looked at Ebris with calculating eyes. Her face was hidden in shadow, save the green glows of the mark reflected in her irises.

"I know this map. I know the handwriting on the margins well. There is only one map like this in Thedas and it disappeared over a year ago," the hooded woman said. "How did you come to possess it?"

Ebris remained silent.

After a long moment, the woman tried another question: "What's your name? Why were you at the Conclave?"

"My name is Ebris of House Trevelyan in Ostwick," she answered, reluctantly. "I was at the Conclave accompanying my brother, Cadan Trevelyan, a cleric of the chantry in Ostwick. He was there to represent our family. Please, do you know if he - "

The woman cut her off, gesturing to her hand. "Do you remember what happened? How this all began?"

_Thick smog fills her lungs, threatening to choke her. A dim light above what seems like stairs without an end. She hears something behind her. A rustling. Then a crack. Then a terrible screech. Her legs start running before she can look back. The light as her guide, she runs ever upwards._

"I remember running. Things were chasing me," she closed her eyes, struggling to remember. Bits and pieces were all she had, snapshots of moments, with the time between them black. _A bright, soft, feminine form, a beacon, holding out her hand, beckoning._ "There was.. a woman?"

Her interrogator started. "A woman?"

Ebris nodded. "She reached out to me. That's... that's all I can remember."

Cassandra stepped forward. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana," she instructed. "I will take her to the rift."

They leaned close and whispered something to each other before the hooded woman nodded and disappeared out the door. Ebris tensed as the Seeker approached her to undo her shackles.

"What did happen?" she asked, rubbing her wrists, only to have them rebound by rope. She was hauled to her feet and led toward the entrance of her prison.

"It will be easier to show you," was the Seeker's response, before pushing the doors open and leading Ebris into a changed world.

* * *

><p>The sky mocked her, its gaping mouth guffawing irreverently. She could imagine the Maker peering through the hole, laughing at all the little people scurrying about in fear. Ominous, green tendrils of light swirled around the hole, occasionally sending great sparks crackling through the clouds.<p>

"We call it the Breach. It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift. Just the biggest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

The Breach swirled violently up above and with a thunderous _crack_ and a flash of blinding light, it snapped away another piece of sky. Her mark flared in response, bringing her to her knees. Green lights stretched, reaching for the Breach. She made a fist, determined not to cry out in pain.

The Seeker knelt down to inspect her hand.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

"I guess I don't really have much of a choice," Ebris sighed.

"None of us do."

* * *

><p>As soon as she felled the last demon, the bald elf snatched her arm and dragged her over to the rift. His long, cold fingers encased her wrist and he thrust her marked hand upward. Her arm stiffened as an unfamiliar power overwhelmed her muscles. A white, hot energy surged through her body, exiting through her mark in a beam of light that latched onto the heart of the rift. Her body weakened as the mark drained her essence to counteract the rift's energy.<p>

It was over almost as soon as it started and she collapsed into the arms of the elven mage who had grabbed her and closed the rift.

"Nice to meet you, too," she grunted, straightening herself and brushing Shade demon carcass off her cuirass. "Consider buying a girl lunch before pushing her palm-first into dangerous Fade tears."

"How barbaric of me. My sincere apologies," the elf grinned, not looking very sorry. "But it appears that my theory is correct."

"Wait, you weren't sure that this would work?"

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand," he explained. "That your mark might be able to close the rifts was a logical assumption and, as you can see now, correct. Just be happy we didn't test our hypothesis on the larger rift."

"But we know now that it can work," Cassandra said, showing some enthusiasm. "Her mark will be able to close the Breach itself!"

"Possibly," he replied. He gave Ebris a wry smile, "It appears you hold the key to our salvation."

"I would rather not," she mumbled under her breath. Cassandra overheard and shot her a disapproving glance.

"Good to know!" the dwarf declared, shouldering an oversized crossbow. "Here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever."

She raised her eyebrows at him and he gave her an elaborate bow, "Varic Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong. And say hello to Bianca," he gestured to his crossbow, "She'll be great company in the valley."

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," The elf said, then added, "I am pleased to see you still live."

Ebris shared the sentiment.

As the group moved onward to the forward camp, she found herself thinking about her brother. She desperately sifted through scenarios that could lead to Cadan being alive, but the more she pondered them, the heavier her heart felt. _Maker's balls, Cadan, I knew the Conclave would be a disaster_. She knew her anger wouldn't bring him back, but at least it was better than the loneliness that threatened to devour her.

* * *

><p>The next rift, she closed on her own. Solas rendered the last rage demon to ice and, with a furious yell, Cassandra bashed it with her shield, shattering it. Ebris charged forward and reached for the rift. Her mark grew brighter, pulsing with excitement as it approached the sundered veil. Lightning burst from her palm and met its target, petrifying her arm with its intensity until the rift finally disintegrated with a thunderous clap.<p>

Solas walked up to examine her work. The rift was gone, leaving only static in its wake.

"Sealed, as before," he confirmed, holding up a hand to test the slight crackling of the air. He seemed impressed. "You are becoming quite proficient at this."

"Practice makes perfect," she smiled weakly, drained but feeling quite pleased with herself. Cassandra sheathed her sword and nodded her head in approval.

"Let's just hope it works on the big one," said Varric.

Ah yes, there was still that big, daunting Breach in the sky to deal with. Her smile faltered. The small rifts had been exhausting enough; the mark siphoned her life force violently each time she closed one. There was no doubt in her mind that a rift _that_ big would consume her entirely, but she couldn't bring herself to tell the Seeker or the elf her concerns. It wasn't like she had any other choice.

_Would they have you die to close the Breach?_ Cadan's voice reprimanded her cowardice. He would call her a fool with a martyr complex and he wouldn't be wrong. She bit her lip and shook the thought away.

Looking around, she realized that they had made it to the Temple's entrance. She almost didn't recognize the building with its glorious innards spilling out like guts. Around them, dead demons littered the terrace, as did the soldiers that died fighting them. Her stomach twisted.

"Lady Cassandra," a male voice called out. Ebris turned to see a group of soldiers approach them, led by a tall, well-armored man with striking fur pauldrons and golden hair. He scanned the vicinity as he addressed the Seeker. "You managed to close the rift. Well done."

"Do not congratulate me, Commander," Cassandra turned toward Ebris. "This is the prisoner's doing."

He turned his scrutinizing gaze on her and she squirmed under his appraisal. Cadan's intrusive voice barked at her: _Maker's breath, were you raised in a barn? Stop slouching!_ She quickly lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. She almost saluted, as she was wont to do with Cadan, but stopped herself in time and flushed a deep red.

"Is it?" The Commander sounded cynical, his voice betraying his uncertainty. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she fell short of his expectations. "I hope they're right about you. We lost a lot of people getting you here."

Guilt flooded her, followed by anger. She regarded the Commander coldly and was met with equally frosty eyes.

"You're not the only one hoping that," she muttered. She studied the disjointed bodies of their dead strewn senselessly on the stone, committing the harrowing sight to memory_._

"I suppose we'll see soon enough," he said with a curt nod. He pointed the way forward. "The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will meet you there."

None of them were prepared for the sight that greeted them in the Temple. The stench hit them first. The unmistakable acrid odor of rotting flesh combined with an overwhelming sulfurous smell.

The thick smoke burned their eyes. Thin green lava splintered the remaining halls of the Temple and red lyrium grew out of the walls, casting a red, hazy glow.

Leliana's scouts settled around the balcony; Ebris envied their high vantage point. Her stomach rumbled nervously as they ventured downward to meet the rift.

_Someone help me!_

She jumped. "Did you hear that?"

Before anybody could reply, her mark flared, knocking her down. A fragment of a memory assaulted her.

_Shadowy figures are restraining a familiar woman. The Divine. She screams for help. A dark mass approaches, voice low and threatening. A body slumped in the corner. What's going on here? Her voice interrupts the scene. Run! Run while you still can. Warn them! The dark shadow twists toward her. He is angry. An intruder! Kill her!_

She felt herself being yanked up by an angry Seeker. "That Most Holy called out to you! It was her voice!"

Ebris pushed Cassandra off her. "I don't remember any of that," she insisted. She replayed the scene in her head several times, something about it bothering her. The body in the corner. It was blurry, but she thought she could recognize the –

She screamed, clutching her hand.

"Demons! Stand ready!" Cassandra ordered. The archers above readied their bows and the soldiers accompanying them drew their swords.

A massive, spike-covered demon leapt out of the rift with a thunderous cry. Debris flew up where he landed and the stone cracked, spidering out from beneath his clawed feet. He pounded the ground twice, shaking the earth. All seven of his eyes fixed on her.

Then he charged.


End file.
